


kismetʼs song

by jaepeels



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Reincarnation, also jihoon lives on the moon, guanlin is a piano prodigy, i promise it's soft, jihoon is fate's apprentice, there's chamdeephwi bcs i love them, there's some magic involved, timelapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaepeels/pseuds/jaepeels
Summary: the thing about soulmates is that they stay with you for a very long time.





	kismetʼs song

**Author's Note:**

> a veryyyyy late birthday gift for guanlin bcs i'm very slow at writing. anyways, happy birthday, linlin!! you deserve some magic, so here it is :') 
> 
> so, uh... it's unbeta'd just like my other fics. but i hope y'all forgive my lazy ass and enjoy this nevertheless :"D happy reading, folks!

 

 

 

 

> _once under the stars, a boy makes a promise of forever..._

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_i. interlude_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

for everyone, there's the moon—the earth's natural satellite that's only visible when reflected by the light of the sun. an old companion of the stars. a lonely soul's only friend. a giant ball of illumination, vibrant and glowing against the night sky.

 

but for people like jihoon, the moon is more than that.

 

the moon is a home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

his home is also the heart of every new beginnings. said new beginnings are more than just the first pages of every books that has ever existed—they're endless threads entwined together so intricately to create stories for every person on earth. these threads are woven by fate himself; his delicate hands careful with every twist in every pattern that he makes. honest, kind, and mystical to the touch. hints of stardust leaving a trail of soft glitter underneath his fingertips.

 

just like magic.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

once in a lifetime—or any other term that the moon people uses for a long time that only happens once—fate chooses an apprentice. and just like any other stories, this has also been predetermined by the threads. and those threads had told him: it's him.

 

it's  _him_.

 

jihoon is more than glad that fate had chosen him.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

"oh, no." jihoon stares, horrified, at the threads now entangled on his hands. if these are the real threads of fate, he's probably dead by now. thankfully, the ones that he just ruined by now are just for practice. he's been practicing for about three moon hours now and the threads still get caught up in a tangled mess.

 

however, fate has been kind to him. he always is. he just chuckles good-naturedly at jihoon, who pouts at him in return. "you'll learn in no time."

 

"you always say that," jihoon points out, trying to untangle the threads with careful fingers. but to no avail. he lets out another frustrated groan, but still keeps untangling. "it's been a long time and i still can't weave something." or anything, at that.

 

doubt is a terrible thing. it's even more terrible when you're doubting fate. but jihoon can't help it; can't help the abstract creature in his head, crawling around the edges of his thoughts and feeding his mind with things that makes him smaller than he already is. is it wrong to question the threads? to be uncertain to himself? why did fate even choose him?

 

"stop doubting yourself," fate says, as if reading his mind. his tone is not chastising; rather it's patient. understanding. he gets up from his old velvet sitting chair and joins jihoon down on the carpeted marble floor, sitting cross-legged across him. he takes the threads from the younger and starts untangling them himself. "don't hesitate. hesitation makes your mind and heart unclear."

 

jihoon watches fate unravel complicated knots and untwists some more. he does it with gentle fingers, untying them with ease until the threads return to normal. as if they weren't tangled together to the point of destruction earlier.

 

"just relax and you'll be fine," fate assures him with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. the gesture should make him feel at ease, but somehow it doesn't. and he doesn't really want to dwell about it.

 

"okay," jihoon answers, and hopes that it doesn't sound too untrue.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

in some time, jihoon learns how to properly weave. but he knows: it's not enough.

 

never enough.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

the scar on jihoon's pinky finger is one of the mysteries that he has yet to find an answer. it's a rather thin scar, only visible if you look to closely. it circles around his finger, like a permanent ring on his skin.

 

it should be harmless; just a tiny bit of imperfection on his otherwise flawless skin. it should be nothing. it should be.

 

until he feels it burn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

when different colored threads are entwined together so tight that they turn into one, interdependent and never-ending, it means only one thing: they're two halves of a single star. each and every part of each other—theirs.

 

as many may call it: soulmates. destined for each other since the beginning of time.

 

jihoon has weaved threads for soulmates before—it's his ability, after all, so it comes natural to him. fate had said that he has the touch of eternal love; his hands made for those who seek for it for a very long time. but that's not true: the threads tell him everything. stripped bare and laid down for him to see what's already there. the threads have history; it tells him the past. and the past tells him the present and the future. and it means: there's a part of you that doesn't change. your soulmate doesn't change. they stay with you endlessly.

 

when he comes across the threads of a certain boy, he feels something with the unthreatening scar on his pinky finger. at first, it tingles at the contact. harmless and unassuming. but the burn comes eventually—a sudden searing pain on his skin, fire and electricity at the same time, wrapping around his finger like hundreds of hot needles prickling onto him. he retracts back his hand and cradles it against his chest, hissing at the foreign sensation. he observes the scar burning around his finger, turning the skin raw and red, torn through layers like a blade that had cut through paper.

 

fate immediately comes to his side with an expression of worry etched on his features. "jihoon. are you okay?"

 

"i-i'm okay," jihoon manages to say. the burning has stopped now, but the aftereffect of it still lingers. it still hurts.

 

"what happened?"

 

"i don't really know. i—"

 

just then, something flickers. jihoon thinks that he's hallucinating, until it happens again. a ghost of a string appears around his scar, silver and luminescent like a beam of moonlight, its length pooling around him and disappearing once again. it glints off repeatedly like the light of a firefly, and jihoon can only stare in awe as he follows the trail to where the string ends. but it doesn't. instead, it's connected—intertwined to a thread that belongs to someone else's life. someone else's fate. and he can't believe that somehow, he's becoming a part of that even though it shouldn't be.

 

this doesn't make sense. people like him should be alone. a soulmate is not something that just appears into thin air—into his life. things doesn't work like that up here. he's fate's apprentice, after all, and he had sworn to commit to his duties until the end of time. forever. and this one thing—a coincidence that he is greatly aware that is not a coincidence at all—complicates everything.

 

he didn't sign up for this.

 

"what's happening?" he whispers, more to himself. he watches that string that connects to him stop from flickering. it settles on his finger, through someone's thread, like it already found its place to stay. to belong. confused doesn't exactly explain what he's feeling right now. his emotions are a storm, swirling at the pit of his stomach. he's puzzled, curious, frustrated, and angry at the same time, and it's making his head ache so much. and the sensation is so overwhelming that his knees have failed him and he has to lean on a wall for support, trying to somehow calm himself. breathe. just breathe. once the throbbing subsides, he turns to fate. "what's happening?" he asks once again.

 

and for the first since he met him, fate doesn't have an answer.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

the thread that entwines with his, jihoon learns, is from a boy named lai guanlin. with unrestrained curiosity, jihoon watches his life unfold on the surface of the water from the pond of the moon garden. said garden is at the back of the moon tower where he currently resides with fate. the garden is full of life and wonders; filled with vibrant colors and peculiar plants that glow like moonlight and flowers that ripple like iridescence. there's a single tree that sits just beside the pond, its trunk painted with stardust and its leaves a color of an ocean's blue, turning silver when they fall from the branches. he lets his back lean there and the tree lets him, engulfing him with a familiar warmth as he continues to stare at the scenes unravelling in front of him.

 

you see, jihoon is a curious boy. even with all the knowledge that he got from fate's lessons and the stories he gathered from the threads, there are still things that he wants to know. and he's glad that the pond lets him gain access on all the events that happen on earth. the universe. everything. there are no limitations in these waters—just endless tales that needed to be acknowledged. and jihoon is happy to be the one seeing them.

 

every time before he goes to sleep, he visits the pond to observe the boy that the threads brought to him. lai guanlin was born in a city called taipei, and he was born surrounded with warmth. with love. with everything good in this world. his home is kind, made up of four corners of mirth that support him and his loving family. he grew up loved and he loves just as much in return. always reciprocated, always enough. he's a beautiful boy with bright, round eyes that seem to hold the entirety of the universe, and it's not hard for jihoon to be fond of him.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

guanlin is five when he learns the meaning of soulmates. guanlin is also five when he discovers that he's not like most children—the string around his pinky finger a silver color, unlike the others' red ones. when he asks his mother about this, he receives a smile, a warm hand on his cheek, and: "it's because you're special." jihoon's heart clenches at this. he stares at his own string and thinks, rather stupidly, if guanlin's ever going to find out the truth. and more stupidly: would it make him happy?

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

guanlin is eight years old when he learns that he's not at all special. his classmates say so, and jihoon can only sit there under the canopy of branches, distances away from earth, anger and sadness battling in his chest. he wants nothing but to prove them wrong, wants nothing but bring back the smile on guanlin's face, wants nothing but his happiness. but he finds that it's not easy at all.

 

nothing is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

when guanlin is twelve, he discovers a piano at their family room. it sits there at the center of the spacious area, large and beautiful, covered in sleek dark mahogany. and guanlin is strongly drawn, his feet dragging him towards the instrument as if he's possessed by an invisible force. he runs a small hand on its smooth surface, his eyes wide in wonder. he takes a seat on the chair and opens the cover cautiously. his fingers hover above the pristine white keyboard, not quite touching, hesitating.

 

hesitating.

 

hesitating.

 

hesitating.

 

hesita—

 

just then, he tentatively presses a key, a soft sound that makes his eyes light up. he presses a key again and that's all it takes for him to take the risk. suddenly, his hands are all over the keyboard, driven by an undescribable energy. he closes his eyes as he plays, letting his fingers—or is it his heart?—do all the work. he plays like his life depends on it—with so much passion and emotion. and jihoon lets himself drown in it.

 

he closes his eyes and listens. just listens. he tunes out all the other sounds and focuses on the melody that guanlin is playing. it's slow and methodical, a soft tune, like a ballad, that makes jihoon remember the sound of the waves crashing against each other. the rain pelting against the windowpanes. the wind blowing against his ears. the rustling of leaves. like little things on earth, subtle but utterly beautiful. familiar.

 

like home.

 

guanlin's fingers cut to a new section and this time, the notes are much faster, stronger. and it echoes throughout the whole room. inside jihoon. leaving deep impressions in his heart as the younger boy presses the keys harder, and it suddenly becomes more difficult for jihoon to breathe, his chest contorting in so much pain. and when guanlin hits the final note, the sound reverberating in jihoon's ears, something warm trickles down his face.

 

it's then he realizes that he's crying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

the song that guanlin played. he knows that he's heard it somewhere. somewhere far away. somewhere close—but not quite. he remembers. certainly not from his memory. but his heart remembers.

 

it's heartfelt just it is heartbreaking.

 

and he wonders why that is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

guanlin is fifteen when he becomes known to the world as a young piano prodigy. he performs in different countries, different continents, in front of so many people. they love him and his perfect playing. they love it because it's natural, graceful, and breathtaking, and it's something that you would never forget. guanlin leaves traces in people's hearts with his performance, and that alone tells why it's worth remembering.

 

when his parents had discovered him playing on that day, they immediately enrolled him in proper piano lessons. the teachers loved him; always awed at how the boy is so talented, at how he brings all the simple melodies into something so beautiful and alive. they said that it was like magic, somehow—like leaving stardusts on each keys that he presses.

 

guanlin's career blooms at such a young age, paving himself a path that secures his own future. jihoon thinks that he's living a pretty good life right now. he's actually doing something that he loves and his family are always there for him, supporting him with everything that he does.

 

but somehow, it's not enough. at night, guanlin cries himself to sleep, curling into a ball and clutching his heart, as if something agonizes him so much. jihoon feels this too; feels it in his head, his hands, his legs, his gut, his throat, his lungs, his eyes, his chest—anywhere, everywhere—bone-deep in an undescribable ache, like a feeling of loss of something that you had yet to know. he feels so incomplete. so empty. like a part of him is missing.

 

(because there  _is_. he just doesn't to admit it to himself.)

 

jihoon lets the tears fall down from his eyes, lets his arms hug his knees, and tries to pretend that he doesn't feel so lonely and heartbroken and definitely not okay. he catches a glimpse of guanlin's hunched figure on the surface of the water, his frail body shaking as he continues to sob, and jihoon feels the pain everywhere more strongly than before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

somehow, the earth seems so far away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

jihoon would be lying if he thinks that guanlin didn't grow up well. he's seventeen now and the earth boy has gotten taller, broader, his features more refined—sharp at the edges, the traces of his baby fat no longer visible. but he still manages to look youthful; the soft curves of his nose and lips, the flutter of his long eyelashes, the prominent dimples on both of cheeks, his gummy smile, and the sparkle in his eyes lighten up his whole face. he literally glows when he laughs a genuine laugh, all gums and teeth, his nose crinkling slightly as he does so. it's sort of endearing, and it sends an erratic flutter inside jihoon's chest.

 

admitting the fact that guanlin has grown into such a young fine man that he is today is a bit overwhelming to jihoon. he's terrified of the idea of what he's feeling right now, on how it will grow, on where it will take him. he doesn't want to acknowledge it; doesn't want to know why his heart is beating so fast right now at the mere sight of the younger boy doing the most mundane things on earth and the sound of his laughter that seems so close but so so so far. it just doesn't seem fair, at how much jihoon wants to close the distance—to want something more than what he has right now.

 

somehow, the moon with its beautiful people and its magical elements, doesn't seem like home to him anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

he shouldn't long for earth; he shouldn't long for a planet that is far too flawed compared to his own home. he's already seen its imperfections, knows the true, ugly nature of humans—at how they themselves slowly destroy their own home. in earth, there is always sadness, anger, bitterness, pain—so much pain that eventually ends up in more pain; a seemingly endless cycle in a world full of endless cycles.

 

but despite all of that, he's drawn to that small planet of blues and greens with its never-ending flaws caused by its flawed people. maybe it's because of guanlin—the boy who's somehow bound to him by fate—or maybe it's something more. something that is more than what these threads are trying to say.

 

he stares up at the sky sprinkled with stars, wondering if he can find the answers among them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

he doesn't find the answers of course. he knows that isn't as easy as that, but he's a bit confused, curious, and desperate. and those feelings are like a small fire that is slowly growing within him, burning hot and so difficult to ignore.

 

he knows he's been out of it for awhile. he's aware that his performance has been sloppy lately; his lack of focus is getting out control. he even nearly messed up on someone's strings if it weren't for fate's fast hands to fix what he was about to do wrong. he knows that fate himself is worried; jihoon can feel his eyes—those kind eyes—linger at his back a little bit longer. he's looking after jihoon like he's a toddler who still can't walk properly without tripping on his own feet. he does most of the work these days, insisting that jihoon should stay in the moon garden and rest, and jihoon just feels bad; his gut twisting into something ugly. he knows that he's been a whole mess lately, but what fate has been doing—showing him so much kindness and patience—just messes with him a bit more. someone like him isn't supposed to be fate's apprentice; the man deserves better than him.

 

he just doesn't get it.

 

so, he tries to focus on other things, to hopefully get his mind somewhere else. he goes to the moon garden to tend to the plants, taking time to water them one by one. he plants some new moonflowers, burying the glowing seeds in an empty plot of soil that fate must've been saving up for this particular purpose; his master is fond of gardening and does it when has time to spare. the moonflowers are good for soothing pains (physically, mentally, spiritually, you name it) too since it has small healing properties, so he carefully plucks one, its glowing petals humming softly against his now callused hands, and proceeds to make some tea out of it inside. the process is slow, but he eventually manages, now adding hot water to the pot, the liquid slowly turning a soft, almost-glowing, blue color as it passes through the filter of crushed petals. the smell is fragrant and relaxing, and jihoon sighs, the scent somehow settling comfortably in his bones. he lets the tea sit there for awhile, taking the time to clean the table and organize the herb jars on the shelves.

 

once done, he places the glass teapot along with two cups on a tray and heads to the main room. the balcony doors are open, the moonlight spilling through the whole room in a soft glow. fate is standing outside, looking through a huge silver telescope with so much concentration that he doesn't notice jihoon coming to stand next to him. he only startles at the sound of the tray being set down on a small glass table next to the telescope.

 

"i'm sorry," jihoon whispers apologetically. "did i disturb you?"

 

"nah." fate waves him off with a hand. "it's okay. i'm just playing a bit with this old telescope."

 

"ah." jihoon nods, eyeing the huge thing. it's the first time he's seen it ever since he started his apprenticeship, and he wonders what it does. he coughs awkwardly. "um. would you like some tea?"

 

fate smiles at him kindly. "that would be nice."

 

he quickly reaches for the teapot and pours tea into a cup and offers it to his master ("thank you," he says to jihoon as he accepts it) before pouring some of the blue liquid into his own cup. he circles both of his hands around the cup, seeking warmth, and brings it towards him, blowing the steam on top. he tentatively takes a sip, the taste sugar-sweet on his tongue, and immediately relaxes as the liquid seeps through his veins, warming his insides, ridding any traces of exhaustion in him. he takes another sip and relishes at the calming effect, a perfect remedy for his stormy mind. his uneasy heart. it's almost like magic.

 

"this tea is great," fate comments with a sigh. "well, moonflowers are a pain to grow, so it should be great."

 

jihoon laughs, recalling memories of fate in his dirt-stained clothes singing soft lullabies to the moonflowers as he tends to them. "i agree. moonflowers are pretty tricky and they sulk when you don't talk to them."

 

"much like you, huh?" fate says teasingly.

 

"i do not sulk," jihoon protests, causing fate to laugh. he looks down at his cup, at the traces of silver swirling around the liquid like movements of stars in the night sky, considering. weighing down his next words. "hey, mister fate? can i ask you a question?"   

 

fate hums, a small smile on his face. "go ahead."

 

"is this okay?" he asks, and feels stupid the moment he's said it. "i mean—is it possible for people like us to have soulmates? does it break one of the laws of the universe? or was it just a simple mistake, like some sort of a flaw written on the threads? i didn't think that threads could make mistakes too, but it can happen, right? after all, nothing really is perfect. right, mister fate?"

 

fate chuckles, seemingly amused. "you asked more than one question."

 

"oh, sorry," jihoon says sheepishly, ducking down his head in embarrassment.

 

"no, it's okay. you can ask as many questions as you like." fate winks at him, before proceeding to run a free hand on the silver body of the telescope. "i see you're very troubled about the soulmate thing."

 

jihoon nods wordlessly.

 

"you know," his master starts, a hint of smile painting his lips, "having a soulmate is not a problem at all. in fact, i think it's pretty normal."

 

jihoon looks up. when he speaks, his tone is uncertain. "even for people like us?"

 

"even for people like us," fate confirms. "everyone deserves a soulmate, jihoon. and we're not an exception. we all came from every single star in the universe; our fates written even before the beginning of time. you might think that having a soulmate is a mistake, but it's not. your threads are tangled together for a reason, and that reason should be enough to assure you deserve every happiness that you can get."

 

"you wanna hear a story?" fate asks, and jihoon nods. the older of the two smiles as he looks over the vast expanse of the night sky, his eyes shining along with the stars. "there was once this boy who worked for fate. he was an excellent student and he was also the best apprentice that fate could ever ask for. he was gentle, kind, and he listened to his master well. he was happy and content with his job—with his life on the moon. but when he learned about having a soulmate, he thought that everything was starting to turn upside down. he started wanting more; he wanted to be on earth—to be with his soulmate. he knew that it just felt right. he asked his master about leaving his duty as an apprentice to find his other half, but fate didn't allow him. he believed that people like them didn't deserve a life outside the moon; that they made an oath to remain bounded to their duty until the end of time."

 

jihoon chews the bottom of his lip, thinking. he knows about this oath; he stated it just before his apprenticeship began. he remembers all too well the exact words that he said that day, the memory etched on his mind enduringly—like a reminder of a life that he's supposed to live until the end of time. a life that he's living right now. "so," he starts, staring at fate thoughtfully. "what happened to fate's apprentice?"

 

when fate meets his eyes, jihoon can't seem to read his expression. "he stayed."

 

"of course," jihoon says quietly, lowering down his head in resignation. he feels his heart drop into what seems like a bottomless pit. it's not a surprise that an apprentice of fate would choose to stay, considering how the weight of an oath affects to people like them. oaths should be kept, oftentimes unbreakable to the point where you'd go through some grave consequences if you'd choose to break it. he doesn't know what kinds of consequences are there and he doesn't even want to think about it. he'd rather like to remain clueless, thank you very much.

 

“but iʼm not going to do the same to you,” fate says, the urgency in his tone causing for jihoon to look at him. the elderʼs features are gentle, but his eyes have a fire in them, burning brightly; determined and sincere at the same time. “his master had not given him the thing that he needed the most: a choice. he didnʼt get to choose what his heart had desired, but iʼd like to give you that option because you at least deserve it.”

 

jihoon just stares at him, scrutinizing his expression, searching for something—like a lie or an upcoming joke. but thereʼs nothing there except for the genuineness in his gaze. there seems to be a flutter in jihoonʼs chest at the mere indication of a  _choice_ ; the feeling is so overwhelming that he almost forgets to come up with a reply. “but the oath—i shouldnʼt break it. i donʼt know what will happen, but i—”

 

“itʼs not a problem, jihoon,” fate cuts him off. “yes, oaths canʼt be completely broken, but we still can make a few changes. so, donʼt you worry about the consequences because you wonʼt be getting any.” and then he grins at him with a wink.

 

“i—” jihoon stops himself, biting the bottom of his lip thoughtfully. “iʼd like to think about it first.”

 

“of course.” fateʼs smile is patient and kind, as always. “take your time. whatever your choice, iʼll respect it.”

 

“thank you,” jihoon says truthfully. always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

after the conversation that he had with fate, jihoonʼs mind becomes a lot clearer than before. he now goes back to work without messing up, all of the weight that heʼs been carrying for the past few done gone. he feels lighter now. relieved. he doesnʼt even notice that heʼs been smiling a lot lately until fate tells him so. it just makes him smile even more.

 

he still checks on guanlin, who he now fully acknowledges as his soulmate. (well, itʼs not like itʼs gonna change anytime soon, so.) the boy has graduated high school now and the bright smile that he wears on his face as he walks up to the stage to get his diploma warms jihoon—a very similar sensation that he feels when he sees the moon garden in full bloom. somehow, he knows that he senses guanlinʼs happiness in him as if itʼs his own. maybe it is.

 

he wonders if somewhere, somehow, someday, he can ever be a part of guanlinʼs happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

is he willing to take the risk... to be?

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

one time, fate asks him to read his own threads. with a nervous heart, he does. and this what they tell him:

 

you loved him, you love him, and you will love him. 

 

always and forever.

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

he sees lifetimes with guanlin: a life where guanlin is a prince and jihoon is the palace gardenerʼs son. a life where they met in times of war. a life where both of their families are business enemies. a life where theyʼre from opposing gangs. he also sees some time in the future: a life where theyʼre in the same band, touring and performing all over the world.

 

theyʼre all different, but itʼs  _theirs_. atleast all of them are theirs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

once under the stars, a boy makes a promise of forever. once again, under the same stars, the same boy asks in a dying breath, “find me, okay?”

 

_yes_ , he whispers to him, whispers to the moon, the stars, to the threads that hum a kismetʼs song under his fingertips.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

letʼs meet each other again.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

again.

 

and again.

 

and again.

 

until the end of time.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

**_ii. postlude_ **

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

when lai guanlin first told his parents that heʼs going to study in seoul, it was obvious that they were disappointed by his choice. guanlin had received dozens of scholarship from dozens of state-of-the-art schools all around the world just because of his so-called “amazing talent,” and his family were very ecstatic to hear that he got one from juilliard as well. he knew that they wanted him to go there ever since they found out about him playing the piano; his mom even mentioned how it would be nice if heʼd actually end up going there. and now that he has the chance and he didnʼt even take it, it wasnʼt a surprise that his mom would be upset with him—even giving him his first ever cold treatment that lasted for about a week.

 

when they finally got to talk to each other one night when she went to cuddle with him on his bed (because she just missed him terribly and felt bad for even giving him the cold treatment), she had asked him why he chose to study in korea.

 

“i donʼt know,” he had admitted, smiling absentmindedly at the ceiling where a bunch of decade-old glowing stars are plastered. theyʼre a cheap replacement of the real things, but they still help him sleep at night. “i guess it just... felt right.”

 

it felt more than just  _right_. when he first came to seoul to perform there, it was like falling in love at first sight. how the city and the people felt too familiar—like home—even though it was his first time coming there. how he looked at the city lights through his hotel room window and thought to himself: how could a city be so beautiful and so warm and just so perfect? heʼs been to a lot of different continents, different countries, different cities, and yet why does he feel so particularly at home when heʼs right here in seoul? his mind, his heart, and every part of him was— _is_ —screaming to go to seoul and it would be unwise to not listen to them otherwise.

 

“i guess if thatʼs what you want.” his mom had brushed the stray hair from his face and placed a kiss on his forehead, and he felt like he was five years old again. “iʼm not going to stop you.”

 

although his dad was kind of skeptical at first, he handled it more smoothly than his mom, even helping him through his college applications. his sister just hugged him and said that she was happy that he made his own decision—that he followed his heart despite everyone telling him that it wasnʼt the right choice.

 

moving to seoul and studying the basics of the language were easy, but saying goodbye to his family wasnʼt. they came with him to korea to help him set up his things in his dorm and even booked a hotel room just to be with him for a couple of days. they visited some tourist spots, ate some good food, and just bonded like a happy family on vacation. when it was time for them to leave for their late evening flight back home, guanlin didnʼt want to let go; hugging his family tight in his arms, breathing in their scent and engulfing himself in their familiar warmth.

 

“take care of yourself, okay?” his sister had squished his face in her hands, looking at him straight in the eyes. she looked as if she was close to crying. “try not to trip on your own feet or choke on a food that you like so much. i wonʼt be there to save you and your dignity.”

 

guanlin had laughed. “iʼll keep that in mind.”

 

“and donʼt stress yourself with obtaining a high grade,” his dad piped up, placing a hand over his shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. “you can study, but always remember to have fun.”

 

“yes, dad.” it was actually nice to hear that; he kind of needed it.

 

his mom had pulled him into another hug, gently sniffing on his shoulder. “donʼt forget to call us daily, okay? if you miss a day, i swear iʼm going to immediately fly from taipei to seoul just to check on you and maybe drag you back home.”

 

he chuckled. knowing his mom, he knew that sheʼd actually do that if she wanted to. “okay, mom.”

 

she hugged him tighter. “iʼm going to miss my sweet little boy.”

 

“mom, iʼm literally an adult now.” he rolled his eyes fondly in an attempt to stop the tears from coming out. damn it, he had promised himself not to cry.

 

she had pulled back to place her hands on both of his cheeks, her eyes glistening. “but youʼll always be my sweet little boy.”

 

after he watched them leave with smiles on their faces, he returned to his dorm room that night and slept alone in a foreign city for the first time. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

his roommate's name is lee daehwi and heʼs probably the nicest person that guanlin has ever met. heʼs also funny, clever, and cleans their room well. although heʼs only known him for a few days, guanlin already loves his company. he keeps a stock of gummy bears under his bed and shares some with guanlin with a mischievous look because they both know that itʼs against the rules. he even offers to tour guanlin around the university and introduces him to his friends, bae jinyoung and park woojin, who are apparently more than his friends.

 

(“so, which one?” guanlin asks him as soon as they arrive at their shared room one night after watching a movie with their seniors, his lips quirking in amusement.

 

daehwi raises an eyebrow. “which one what?”

 

“which of them do you like?”

 

“oh.” daehwi flushes a pretty shade of pink. “both. i like them both.”)

 

he likes hanging around them, thatʼs for sure; they always take him to cafés, movies, and show him around seoul sometimes. jinyoung and woojin, who are his seniors, are really fun to hang out with. park woojin is loud and his laugh is very contagious; he majors in dance and is very passionate about it. thereʼs this one time when they watch him during practice and guanlin canʼt help but stare in awe at how the elder is good at it. he even asks guanlin to join him sometimes and itʼs really fun, especially when they do some popping and the others would cheer for him. (guanlin likes to think that heʼs becoming good at dancing, thank you very much.) then thereʼs also bae jinyoung: who majors in fine arts and is more than just a pretty face. when they first met, jinyoung was pretty shy and had barely said a word throughout their first meeting. but when they became closer, guanlin found out that he was pretty cool. he likes to engage himself in things like hiking and bungee jumping. (“you know, just the normal stuff,” jinyoung had once said with a shrug.) they tell him things about themselves and listen to him attentively when itʼs his turn to tell them things. he likes how they seem genuinely interested when they ask him things like his favorite korean food or his favorite piano piece. theyʼre even casual about him being a young piano prodigy like itʼs normal. heʼs so used to people ogling at him like heʼs some kind of rare jewelry and it just feels good to be treated like an ordinary human being.

 

theyʼre really nice and daehwiʼs also nice, but sometimes—

 

sometimes, he just feels lonely. sometimes, he looks at the three of them—looks at the way jinyoungʼs eyes sparkle and the fond smile on woojinʼs face grow wider at the sound of daehwiʼs laugher—and thinks, with an envious heart:  _when will i be able to be happy like this?_  he absentmindedly wraps his hand with his silver-colored string, still in wonder at how pretty it looks in the sunlight, like magic in his fingertips.

 

how can something this beautiful be the reason of such emptiness in his heart?

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

maybe not all beautiful things are good things.

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

sometimes he looks at the moon and does not feel so alone anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

 

“i think thereʼs a music room available somewhere.”

 

it takes a moment for guanlin to register that daehwi is talking to him. he looks up from his ipad and hastily removes his earbuds. “oh, sorry. i didnʼt hear you.”

 

“i said,” daehwi starts again carefully, “i think thereʼs a music room available here somewhere. i know you want to play on a real piano.”

 

his roommate is staring at his ipad, where he had pulled up a piano app earlier and was practically messing around with it. he knows that what daehwi is actually telling is that he needs something better than this thing that produces a more electronic sound than how an actual piano really sounds. he knows that he needs something real. daehwi also plays the piano, so he knows what it feels—how itʼs different. so, he smiles gratefully at his roommate and says, “youʼre right. i think you should take me there.”

 

itʼs still early in the morning, the sun has barely risen, and the campus is nearly empty. guanlin catches a couple of kids hanging in the local café nearby nursing cups of coffee in their hands while chatting with still sleepy expressions and thinks, _ah, this is college_ , and gets unexpectedly giddy. they buy themselves drinks—hot chocolate with tiny bits of marshmallows for daehwi and earl grey tea with an average amount of milk and sugar for guanlin—before they proceed their walk to the music building. daehwi talks a bit about his major (music production) and how heʼs excited for his classes. guanlin tells him about his favorite music genre asides from classical (which is hip-hop) and proceeds to share his spotify playlist that contains all his favorite songs. they clearly differ with their music tastes, but guanlin is glad that daehwi is open to listen to any kinds of genres.

 

“weʼre here,” daehwi announces as they come into a halt in front of a huge set of wooden double doors. he reaches for a doorknob and pushes, revealing a very dark room. he feels for something on the wall and switches the light on, immediately illuminating the whole place.

 

guanlin tries to stifle a gasp, but fails. because whatʼs in front of him is probably something from a faraway dream: the place is spacious, made up of clean white walls and dark marble floors. there arenʼt a lot of instruments in this room, but theyʼre placed well. there are a bunch of stringed instruments in one wall and shelves of wind instruments on the other. thereʼs a wooden door that reads “recording room” at the far end and just across the room, sitting majestically on a high platform beside the floor to ceiling window, is a beautiful black piano.

 

“wow,” is what he only manages to say.

 

daehwi chuckles at him. “cool, right? and we can use it anytime for free. just donʼt break anything and itʼs all okay.”

 

guanlin just hums absentmindedly and begins to approach the black piano close to the window, as if being pulled by an invisible force. he runs his fingers over the cover and carefully opens it. he touches the pristine white keys and lets his hand stay there for awhile, like heʼs trying to get acquainted to the sensation of it all. he does this everytime heʼs about to play with a new piano because he knows that every one of them is different and unfamiliar. every piano has a different sound and a different feeling, so itʼs only right to approach them like how you approach someone you want to be friends with. his sister once thought that itʼs kind of strange and said that he talks about them as if they were alive.

 

_because they are_ , he told her. every piano, every instrument, has a voice of its own. a life. a beating heart. if they donʼt, the melodies wouldnʼt sound just as beautiful and magical.

 

he hears daehwi cough and guanlin turns to see him just standing there at the door, looking like he just invaded someone's privacy. “um. i think i should go. you already know the way back to the dorms, right?”

 

“yeah.” guanlin gives him a smile. he knows that daehwi is just giving him some space that he needs in order to play and guanlin is grateful for that. “thank you so much, daehwi-ah.”

 

“no problem,” daehwi replies with a grin. “see you later?”

 

“see you.” and with that, the door closes and guanlin is left alone.

 

he sets down his tea on a nearby table and pulls the chair to sit on it. he settles himself in front of the piano and slowly reaches for the keyboard. he heaves a deep sigh before cautiously pressing a key, as if testing the waters. he presses another key. and another. and when he hears the first few notes, his eyes close and he lets himself drown. he doesnʼt need a written piece in front of him to be able to play this one—these notes that heʼs playing right now arenʼt from mozart or beethoven or any of those musical geniuses. he knows that it isnʼt perfect or anything, but he knows that itʼs _his_. these melodies are coming from himself, deep and intrinsic, like theyʼre always a part of him. he gets lost in the music that heʼs making, his fingers flying across the keyboard, barely in control. he knows that itʼs a song from somewhere, but he doesnʼt know where. he just knows that it has been with him for a long time now.

 

and will be with him forevermore.

 

and then he abruptly stops, his hands just hovering the keyboard and his breathing a bit ragged. itʼs always been like this: halting so suddenly just as heʼs about to finish. like a piece without a postlude.

 

“whyʼd you stop?”

 

he startles a bit from his seat, his head whipping at the direction of the door that he didnʼt know had opened. there stands a boy with hazelnut-colored hair wearing a pastel pink jacket with colorful patches over a plain white shirt, ripped skinny jeans, and a pair of white sneakers with mismatched pink and blue shoelaces. heʼs leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. heʼs smiling a bit and it brightens up his face; his features all soft curves and smooth lines, his cheeks and lips rosy red. he looks like he just came out from a fairytale and guanlin—being a freaking hopeless romantic that he is—knows that heʼs doomed. like Super Doomed with capital letters.

 

it doesnʼt help the fact that thereʼs a silver string that connects the both of them; tugging insistently at guanlinʼs pinky finger, as if saying, itʼs him itʼs him itʼs him itʼs _him_.

 

it takes guanlin a couple of seconds to realize that heʼs supposed to say something. he swallows, and keeping his breath steady, he manages to say, “because i donʼt know whatʼs next.”

 

“i wonder.” the beautiful stranger chews the bottom of his lip thoughtfully before he extracts himself from the doorframe to start walking towards where guanlin is. his steps are careful and steady, and the more he comes closer, the more guanlinʼs heart beat violently against his ribcage. “but itʼs not totally unfinished, right?”

 

“no, i donʼt think so,” guanlin replies after a beat. two beats. three. heartbeats that are becoming louder and more difficult to disregard. “thereʼs definitely a continuation.”

 

“hmm. thatʼs good, then.” heʼs now standing about a meter away from guanlin and itʼs close enough that he can see the specks of gold on his dark eyes, like stars in the night sky. call him a lovesick poet or a hopeless romantic or whatever, but he feels like he can write a book just about how beautiful his eyes are. “you know. you should tell me more about it; keep me updated. i promise iʼll stick around.”

 

“sure.” which means: iʼm just glad that youʼre here to stay.

 

he smiles a beautiful smile, offering guanlin a hand. “iʼm park jihoon, by the way.”

 

“guanlin. lai guanlin.” the young pianist reaches out for his hand. itʼs warm, like itʼs something that can hold on for a very long time. he hopes that it will. “itʼs nice to meet you.”

 

“itʼs nice to meet you, too.” jihoon laughs lightly and if this is the sound that guanlin will be hearing from now on, he finds that he doesnʼt mind. “soulmate.”

 

 

 

 

 

☆

 

 

 

 

 

> ...  _and itʼs a promise that he will surely keep for a very long time._

 

 

 

 

 

_end_.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it until the end, i just wanna say that i love you with all my heart. it means a lot to me <33
> 
> kudos and comments are also appreciated :D
> 
> pls be my friend uwu  
> cc @ jaepeels  
> twt @ jaepeels
> 
> (also, whoever guesses fate's true identity, i will love you forever σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ hint: he's a w1 member :'D)


End file.
